Black Boxes. Caroline Smailes
didn't seem a point in telling you.~
I stopped taking it because you never came inside me.
You were never capable of coming inside me.
~And how could I talk to you about that?~
I think that was the reason.
[silence]
I have a favour to ask.
If you can hear me.
~Can you hear me?~
It's for the next time that you come here.
And the time after that.
And the time after that.
~Can you bring me a strand of silk?~
I read somewhere that it should be silk.
And I'm supposed to weave it all together and make a ladder.
Perhaps it'd be easier if you just brought a ladder.
~Can you bring a really tall ladder?~
We can use it to climb from my window when we leave to live happily ever after.
[sound: a guttural laugh]
Some memories have holes in them.
Where I have blinked too quickly.
[voiced: blink blink]
[volume: low]
~Ob please stop going on!~
~I stopped taking the pill.~
~And I never told you.~
~It really isn't worth this fuss!~
Everything was going fine between us.
It was fine.
~I wasn't trying to trap you.~
~I know that's what you're thinking!~
~But I wasn't.~
At least I don't think that I was.
Holes.
I have white holes in the memories where my eyelashes have ripped the surface.
[silence]
I really must stop blinking.
[sound: humming, unrecognisable tune]
You didn't love me.
But I love(d) you.
It was simple.
Too simple.
I learned to live with it.
~No that's not true.~
I live(d) in the hope that it would change.
That your pea-sized heart would expand.
And that it would become mushy because of me.
And that all of this would happen before it was too late.
That love for me would grow from your mushy heart.
That it would grow and grow.
Kind of like a leaf.
~Do peas have leaves?~
I can't remember.
[sound: undetectable objects thumping to the floor]
And then it happened.
~You know what I am talking about.~
Perhaps you have forgotten the timing.
The placing.
The implications.
But you must remember.
It shocked us both.
I was in the second year of my PhD, studying the etymology of contemporary slang.
You were in the second year of your PhD in genetic engineering.
We'd been together for three years.
We both had paid teaching hours at the university.
We both had funding.
Money wasn't a problem.
We worked in different faculties.
We lived separately.
We saw each other a few times each week.
We had spare time.
I had days where I never spoke to you.
There was nothing wrong with our relationship.
We were plodding along.
[sound: distant rumbling of low flying aeroplane]
And then one day you came inside me.
[silence]
You ejaculated during sexual intercourse.
The words roll from my tongue.
It was quick.
You were quick.
~Do you remember?~
It shocked you.
It shocked me.
I asked you if it had happened.
I asked, did you?
And you nodded.
[sound: a laugh]
I could tell that you were shocked.
You couldn't find the words.
And I have never told you just how much your sperm excited me.
I have thought about it so many times after that day.
I have thought about it when I was alone.
When I needed a release.
~Yes I mean an orgasm!~
~Of course women need that kind of thing!~
And that thought made a trail of discharge onto my knickers.
I'd push my fingers down and over my soft hair.
I'd push my fingers inside me.
Until they were covered in my own juices.
And then that wetness made it easier for my fingers to work their movements.
And then I'd rub my clitoris.
To stimulate me.
Till I reached my climax.
And afterwards I would lick, suck and taste.
Hoping to experience your sperm.
[sound: sucking]
It's a natural thing.
Female masturbation.
It's a normal sexual act.
Sexual normality.
~What is it to be sexually normal?~
My lines are blurred.
I figure that normality would fall within the centre of your line.
~Is that right?~
And that the line should be Etchasketch straight.
~Is that right?~
~But what is the